She didn’t mind washing dishes but she hated what it did to her hands. Then again, she always hated her hands. She could be fresh from the hair dresser, wearing her favorite tweed skirt and modest — but flattering — heels, and her entire confidence would combust after a brief glimpse of them. With each year, they more closely resembled rudimentary art projects, her varicose veins and arthritic fingers held together by Elmer’s glue and popsicle sticks. Unbelievably, these hands became even more monstrous after a dishwashing session, where their already mangled appearance putrified after thirty minutes of soap and water.

Needless to say, “The Aging Process,” as her books liked to call it, had affected her skin before her hair. She saw the physical embodiment of death’s approach in every wrinkle, every liver spot, every segment of dry, scabby skin. The occurrence of such deterioration framed by a mass of healthy, strawberry blonde hair unnerved her, for the contrast made her look even older than she was, like someone’s ill grandmother wearing a desperate wig.

“Julia, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, this is normal. And I still think you’re beautiful. I’ll always think you’re beautiful,” Bill would assure her.

“Thank you sweetie, I needed that,” she would respond, wondering if a human could strangle one’s own neck with one’s own hands.

But those were the harder days and today had been a relatively painless one. Bill was out playing golf so she spent a productive morning at the beauty salon. Her place was a traditional one, the kind that won’t be around after her generation is through. Where women stay for half a day, worrying about health and husbands and their grandchildren’s moral compasses.

“Julia Julia!” the owner always greeted her. She liked that the place existed in a vacuum.

After the salon, she was in a good mood. With hair coiffed and set, she made a quick stop at the grocery store on her way home where, driven by a spontaneous bout of contentment, she bought some sunflowers. Her pleasant mood continued to the check-out line, where she almost succeeded in trying not to fixate on her rheumatic hand against the bouquet.

Once home, she put everything down and headed straight to the kitchen. The atmosphere was slightly colder in this room, and she noticed that all the dishes had been cleaned and piled on the drying mat next to the sink. When she left earlier that day, they had needed washing.

“Bill?” her voice drew out.

No response.

Hadn’t Bill said he was going to play golf until about three or four in the afternoon? He must have stopped back at the house at some point, though she didn’t understand why he would feel compelled to do a chore.

The tinkering sound of ceramics brought Julia out of her thoughts, and she caught movement by the sink. It was a clean white plate, traveling on its own towards the drying mat. It slowly glided along until it landed facedown on the counter. Julia was struck but the scene continued, and from beneath the plate crawled out an animal — a thing — completely new to her.

It was an ovular creature, about three inches long and covered in wiry fur or bristles. One might think it was a mouse, but further examination eliminated that as a possibility. Firstly, the creature was incredibly ugly, shiny, and colored somewhere between a black-brown and a sickly green. More tellingly though, it was without eyes and joints, like some kind of bacterial mass. It perched on the edge of the sink, as if preparing to descend, but it sensed her presence. The creature nodded at Julia, then continued on its journey.

Quietly walking so as not to disturb it, she approached the sink, inside of which she saw the little force in action. It rubbed its body all over a dirty bowl of cereal like a sponge, and left a perfectly clean trail in its wake. Julia was amazed at how well it cleaned grime. It approached hardened food by scraping it off with teeth that appeared to consist of only miniature molars. After removing this rough material, it shimmied its body once again, and the dish looked perfect. The creature then propped the bowl on top of its boneless body, capturing it like a pillow, and carried it up to the counter, where it dropped the bowl off amongst the other clean dishes.

After completing this task, it did what it had done before: stopped at the sink’s edge, acknowledged Julia’s presence, and then slid down to the bottom of the sink. The bowl had been its final project, and with nothing else to clean the creature wiggled into the garbage disposal, where it would settle until needed again.

For many minutes after its disappearance, Julia looked out the window above the sink. She saw her neighbors across the way, parents returning with their two kids from school. It must be at least 3 o’clock she thought.

Realizing Bill would be home soon, she ran the water and turned on the garbage disposal. 

A pastor was travelling last week, he saw an old man, and gave him a lift. While they were going, the old man said; my son, do you know what happened in Heaven last night?

The pastor was so terrified and hurriedly parked and asked; Sir, are you sleeping? How did you get the information about Heaven?

The Old man said; last night in Heaven God became very angry with man and asked the Angels to blow the trumpet. The angels picked up the trumpets and as they were about to blow it WHEN, Jesus fell down and began to plead in tears. The blood that came out of His hands and body were very fresh. He told God that His death shouldn't be in vain.

God couldn't stand the pains of the saint and the wickedness of the evil ones. So He said; "I AM GIVING THEM THEIR LAST CHANCE."

Jesus then turned to the angels and told them to move down in their numerous numbers to tell the world that:

"THE END IS NEAR, JESUS IS COMING VERY SOON".

The pastor (sweating and crying) asked; sir, how did you know this?

The OLD MAN replied; I am one of the Angels sent

to the World.

Please use every medium of communication to send this message.

No time to waste, Please! And the old man disappeared.

Brethren, this story is real, Christ is coming Soon.

Please REPENT. I beg of you. Please SHARE this message round. I will be a happy man.

PLEASE SAVE A SOUL TODAY.

I Have done my part, it's now your turn to spread the Gospel.

No wealth can be compared to life everlasting in Heaven.

If you are Ready to share this Message, LIKE and write: "AMEN"

May God bless you all. AND DO NOT FORGET TO SHARE THIS POST

I'm an atheist and an active participant in debate groups about skepticism vs Christianity, and skepticism vs religion in general. These are neat groups and I have met many intelligent believers and skeptics through them. I've also met very unintelligent skeptics and believers because of them. More than anything else though because of these groups I've been introduced to bad arguments. If you go onto these groups you'll hear bad arguments from both sides, but I want to address one from the Christian camp in this post. If after you read this post and want me to write more stuff like this let me know. 

There are some Christians (not all Christians think this way, so if you want to comment keep that in mind) who believe that skeptics "hate God". This is not true. At all. In fact it's so untrue that there's actually a word for people who "hate God(s)". And guess what? That word isn't "atheist", it's actually "misotheist". A misotheist is someone who hates God or the gods. Atheists do not hate God or the gods, and many skeptics who say that they "dislike" deities mean in the same sense that readers dislike Voldemort or any other antagonist in a literary piece. The implication with misotheism is that these are men and women who believe a deity (or deities) exists and that for whatever reason these beings ought to be hated and are hated at least by misotheists. An example of a misotheist can be found in the movie "God's Not Dead" in the antagonist Professor Radisson. Misotheism and atheism are not the same and I want to operate under the assumption that the Christians who think that atheism=misotheism are merely misinformed and not individuals who seek to confuse others into thinking this way. 

As a skeptic I have no opinion on God. I do not hate or like God. In order for me to have an opinion on God that would make sense to me I'd have to believe in God or in some deity which I don't. When Christians say that atheists hate God it doesn't make any sense to most of us. We understand the purpose behind it: to find some way to rationalize our disbelief in a Christian worldview but it doesn't actually make sense in the real world that we all have to share. My lack of a belief in something you believe in is not in anyway a sign that I hate the thing I claim to not believe in.

I must respectfully ask that Christians who claim skeptics hate God stop making that claim. It's dishonest. I can assure you that as an atheist I do not hate your deity. I don't even really hate your religion. Or you. I hate the behavior of some members of your faction and I'm sure that you can say the same for some members of my group. But that doesn't mean that I'm "suppressing the truth in unrighteousness". I'm merely neutral towards a claim that you make until I see evidence which demonstrates that the claim is reflective of reality. I don't think there's anything wrong with needing evidence to believe in something and I'm sure that many of you don't either, perhaps it's just that what qualifies as evidence to the two of us differs. 

Christians who think that atheists hate God: you believing this isn't going to convince skeptics who know that they merely lack a belief to seriously consider your religion. If anything you'll make yourselves and others who agree with you look silly. You'll also make it harder for us to set aside our differences and genuinely engage in well-meaning dialogue. Please consider this when you next contemplate spreading statements that either imply or out right state that nonbelievers hate your deity. If you want to change the minds of skeptics you need to properly understand the position of skepticism and if you think this way that's proof you don't properly understand the minds of skeptics. And it's possible that you might have thought you were a skeptic when you were actually more properly defined as a misotheist. There's nothing wrong with misotheism and many cultures and belief systems have deities you are supposed to dislike, deities who represent elements that invoke sensations of misotheism in believers in those systems. Keep that in mind.

I hope we can engage in productive dialogues and learn how to treat each other with respect and communicate despite our differences of opinions and beliefs. Let's sincerely listen to each other with respect! Let me know what you think of what I've said here by leaving a comment. I'd love to chat with you.

no escape, fragile arms

broken, barely working

back, painful to the touch,

helpless eyes, no disguise,

broken heart, lonely lines

wailing cries, heavy sighs

bubbles of refuge

from our eyes hidden,

hard to find,

haunted people staring empty

wanting something

hiding everything

dropping like flies

by the many world's lies

get a grip

there is no hope of escape

of the mortal wound

all will fall

no words or magic spell will work

only truth will set us free

jesus christ is the same today,

he will always be as he was

yesterday and forever

today he is there for you and me

he is the way, the truth and the life

chose to believe, else mortal wounds

will forever remain unhealed

your fate sealed

either way of light or dark

choose the light and live

The stranger knocked upon the door,

A creaking, wooden throb,

And someone on the other side

Unlatched and turned the knob.

Uncertainty, a soft, "Hello,"

And, "May I use your phone?"

The person on the other side

Appeared to be alone.

An observation taken in,

No pictures on the wall.

He pointed somewhere down the way-

"Go on and make a call."

The thunder boomed; the stranger stalled

As wires were cut instead.

The gentleman began to sense

A subtle hint of dread.

A conversation thus ensued-

"So what has brought you out?

The rain has flooded everything,

And wiped away the drought.

Say, did you walk, or did you drive?

Why don't I take your coat?"

The stranger slowly moved his arms,

A sentimental gloat.

The water from the pouring skies

Enveloped cloth and shoe.

"Say, would you like a place to sleep?

I'll leave it up to you."

The person on the other side

Discarded his mistrust.

The stranger said his tire was flat,

And shed the muddy crust.

"The phone won't work," he also said.

"It could just be the storm.

Perhaps I will stay here tonight,

To keep me safe and warm."

The patron of the house agreed.

He hadn't seen the wire.

The chilly dampness prompted him

To quickly build a fire.

"You have a name? They call me Ed.

My wife was Verna Dean.

She passed away five years ago

And left me here as seen.

I guess it's really not so bad.

We never had a child.

I loved that Verna awful much,"

He said and sadly smiled.

"No property to divvy up.

The bank will get it all.

Say, do you want to try again

To go and make that call?"

The stranger grinned and left the flame

As to the phone he strode.

Within his pocket, knives and twine

In hiding seemed to goad.

A plan was formed- he'd kill the man;

Eviscerate him whole.

The twine would keep him firmly held;

The knife would steal his soul.

A lusty surge erupted hence;

A wicked bit of sin.

The stranger hadn't noticed yet

That someone else came in.

About the time a shadow fell,

He spun to meet a pan.

The room around him faded out

As eyes looked on a man.

A day or two it seemed had passed,

And when he woke all tied,

The stranger gazed upon old Ed

Who simply said, "You lied."

Reversing thoughts, the moment fled

And Ed said in a lean,

"No worries, stranger. None at all.

Hey, look, here's Verna Dean!"

He looked upon a wraith in rage;

It seemed his little lie

Combusted in a burning fit-

He didn't want to die.

So many victims in his life,

Some fifty bodies strewn.

And now he was the victim; now

The pain to him was known.

The stranger fought against the twine,

And noticed by his bed

The knife once in his pocket left

A trail of something red.

A bowl filled full of organs sat

As Verna poured some salt.

She exited with all of them.

"You know, this is your fault.

We demons wait for just the day

The guilty take the bait

And play with matches one last time-

I simply cannot wait

To taste the death within your flesh;

The venom in your gut.

So now you know the way they felt-

Hey, you've got quite a cut!"

The person on the other side

Removed his human skin-

Before his wife came back for more,

He offered with a grin:

"Say, stranger, is there anything

You'd like to say at all?"

I looked at all the blood and said,

"I'd like to make that call ... "

A quote I usually remember when I think of Atheism is "Either God can do nothing to stop catastrophes, or he doesn't care to, or he doesn't exist. God is either: impotent, evil, or imaginary." Why am I an atheist? Take a good look around at the world. At the starving children, poverty, disease, war, and hatred. That's why. Because if God does exist then I really want an explanation. I used to pray to God every day. Right before I went to sleep. I didn't know the prayers, so I just talked and hoped someone would hear me. No one did. I prayed for my grades, my health, my future success. Well it looks like all three are gone. I don't believe in God because I can't believe in an all powerful being that can't make our world a better place, that does nothing while I go through hell. I don't want to believe in a God that stands by while the world is suffering. An atheist is someone who has opened his/her eyes to the harshness of reality. God is a hope that many cling onto because if there is no God there is no easy answer. What's the point of life, what happens when we die, etc. But there is no easy answer. The idea of simply not existing eventually terrifies people. The unknown has always terrified people. But atheists realize that what is scarier than the unknown is believing in something that doesn't exist.

*I hope this offends no one, it is simply my opinion on a very controversial matter.*

Yesterday was one year and five months.

I can't tell you how many days

because I lost count.

I can tell you that the need is always there like a nagging poke at the back of my mind but for one year and five months I had been able to ignore it. I had been able to push it aside.

But yesterday was different.

Don't ask me why because in all honesty I wouldn't be able to tell you.

It's hard enough for me to understand even after so many years of battling my bipolar disorder and depression.

One year and five months went down the drain... literally as I watched the blood go down the drain right after it.

Yesterday, it felt good to feel numb after letting my addiction take over.

Yesterday, I knew that today would be a numbing, draining day with my thoughts and guilt. I knew that the need would once again become a nagging poke because I couldn't let it come to the forefront of my mind again.

I was right.

Yeterday was one of the worse days I've had in a long time.

I wouldn't be able to tell you why and what triggered it because I don't know.

What I can tell you is that today is

Day One...

Have patience! 

    They say, right down their nose

I say waiting seriously blows

I just don't have any time for that

It just doesn't fit beneath my hat

I don't want to wait and wonder

I can feel it building like thunder

If it's a virtue, I've plenty of those

I'm still okay even if that one goes

I am patient when it's polite

Like old ladies crossing 

    when I've a green light

I am patient when I have to teach

Helping people, their goals to reach

But when it comes to waiting for fun..

I'm like a kid no older than one

When I'm missing 

    someone I love..

I hate to wait and can't rise above

I stalk and pace, it shows on my face

Virtuous patience? 

    Of that there's no trace

It feels like I just might explode

My sanity begins to erode

I want to bite someone, 

    give them pain

For all the minutes that remain

That they are making me wait for them

Each second I wait, 

    I'll bite them again!

Do you like what you see?

Are you lusting for me?

Am I epitome 

    of your dark fantasy?

How do I make you feel?

To deny what is real

Is it my mind or body 

    that holds the appeal?

How much do you know and

How far will you go

To make me reveal 

    everything I can show?

When will you realize 

This is just a disguise?

Remove the outside and 

    you'll just get more lies

Will you stay here with me

With the death and debris?

How long before you 

    will long to be free?

Can you see what I hide?

How much should I confide?

Will you love me if my flesh 

    is dusty and dried?

If you tasted decay

On my lips every day

How much devotion and 

    trust would it sway?

If you reached for my hair

And realized it was bare

How long would it take you 

    to no longer care?

If my death lingered near

Would it be me that you'd fear?

Would your bright eyes squeeze out 

    even one single tear?